


high road (higher intentions)

by harryhanlon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, F/M, Fluff, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking, except michael like fucks off immediately or gives them a sec before buying the pageboy cap, i wanna tag shotgunning but not the sex kind the smoking kind, the drugs are unspecified basically it’s witch weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-18 21:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22767127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryhanlon/pseuds/harryhanlon
Summary: A quiet drive to a peaceful place with your... someone.
Relationships: Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	high road (higher intentions)

**Author's Note:**

> this actively ignores the michael situation because what matters to me is sam living my lesbian dreams. i have nothing else to say except stream kesha’s new album high road (for best results listen to the title track high road while reading cause that sure is how i wrote it)

Fuck the Mega Coven.

Fuck the Grand Coven and the Mega Coven and the Loughlins and everyone that said Rowena MacLeod was less than the dirt on her ancient boots.

She let her ginger locks dance in the wind, imagining each hated witch struggling to keep hold of a tendril, the road behind them dotted with those that failed. Tilting her head toward the setting sun she breathed the moment in deep. The car rumbled irregularly beneath her as a constant reminder of the uniqueness of nature. The power of the earth and universe active all around her. She relaxed for the first time since pulling Lucifer up from the cage.

Had God actually stuck around she’d consider Lucifer’s true final death nothing short of a miracle, but considering... better off thanking her lucky stars for whatever that’s worth. The real miracle would be the peace Rowena felt. A contentment she had only just accepted she would never feel. A confidence that the worst of her past had been defeated and she had helped. That she could handle anything else thrown her way.

She took a moment to feel the cotton of her casual gown on her skin, cradled in her simplest comforts. Matching purple lids closed then flicked open at a small sigh from her companion in the driver’s seat.

Rowena watched as Sam Winchester took them to some destination unknown to her. He drove without his usual sense of urgency, only 5 miles over the limit on these back roads. Somehow she felt safe with him in charge for the moment. She could trust he wouldn’t bring her into harms way.

(She’d try to convince herself it was a rational thought, that of course he had just been through the same hardships and wouldn’t want to make trouble either. As if nothing had changed on the path from enemies to reluctant allies to... this drive.)

Sam held an energy so far unseen by her. He was still in constant motion, scanning the passing tree line for possible threats and adjusting his limbs in a reach for a moment of comfort in an unfamiliar car, but it was almost lazy and smooth like a man unburdened. Like the evil he had unleashed years ago was finally confirmed dead. Rowena thought maybe his features could get used to being so light.

He caught her staring at the edge of one of his scans and cracked a smile before turning towards her. She took the opportunity to watch the way the sun filtered through his hair and hit exposed collarbone. The light she could call affection in his eyes, but she was smart so she wouldn’t. His expression so soft he looked smudged.

Her gaze lingered with no fear of the empty road watching them. He pinked and refocused on his task, veering onto a dirt road leading wherever.

Sam parked to block the path and led the way to his proclaimed ‘perfect spot’. The brush sung with life from chirping branches and shifting leaves all around them. Dirt gave way to moss that led to grass and a dead end. Or perhaps a halted Winchester lifting a log too large for Rowena to step over easily. She passed through the cleared obstacle into Sam’s vision.

Long green grass blew gently around clusters of little flowers and tree roots knotted into a colosseum of natural order. Setting sun still shone and highlighted the approaching clear night. The moon hung in the sky, early for showtime. A witch could lose herself in a clearing like this.

Rowena decided if it had to be any witch she’d be glad it was her.

She sat in the middle of everything and watched her fairytale lumberjack gather twigs or whatever he hadn’t brought in his canvas bag. He rustled and plucked and came up with a large fistful of various herbs. The suddenly smirking witch was amused but not surprised that he had started growing his own ingredients. He walked over and tucked the bunch into his bag before sitting so smoothly it was nearly a collapse. 

The witch and the hunter sat in the lively silence and existed.

The sun set. The moon sat center stage. The pair’s gaze lifted to the stars, for once not fearing what the distant heavens might be planning.

“He’s gone.”

A breath.

“He’s really gone. For good.”

A gasp followed by the most relieved sigh Rowena had ever heard.

“It’s finally over,” slightly choked. She looked over at the man next to her, sprawled in the grass and half hidden by his disheveled hair, stunned she was allowed this moment. That she could be the one he wanted here.

“Aye,” she leaned up on one elbow to meet his eyes. “Time to celebrate,” she winked. Sam flushed immediately though instead of flirting back he grabbed for the clasp of his bag again.

The giant man managed to look shy as he pulled out two glass bottles of a soda Rowena had seen in the back of the kitchen fridge a few times. Finally settling in had let Sam develop little treats for himself and the soda was one of them. As far as she knew no one else in the bunker had ever had one either by rule or pure disinterest. His offering disturbed the butterfly she must have swallowed earlier. She accepted graciously and brought her own gift out of her bag.

“A joint?” he huffed, wrinkling his brow and popping the caps off their drinks.

“Not just any joint Samuel,” she retorted, absolutely not imagining other things his fingers could pop. “You’re in league with a witch now! We all have our herbs and after 300 years I’m afraid marijuana wasn’t gonna cut it.” She conjured a small flame and lit the paper to ensure an even burn upon inhale. Her mind went loose, thinking of nothing but her now bare feet in the grass and the slightly nervous heat of the hand brushing hers passing the joint.

Rowena watched him eye the decorative paper with suspicion and inhale regardless. Coughing immediately and nearly spilling his drink he quickly handed it back, sipping at his soda and hitting his chest for relief.

Taking another pull she watched him recover from the shock to his system. “Alright?” she teased with a glint in her eye. He nodded in slight embarrassment that almost broke the carefree aura around them.

“Well,” Rowena sighed, moving closer and placing a delicate hand on his knee. “As you know, I’m nothing if not willing to help those in need.” She smiled, her teeth glinting in the light and reflecting in Sam’s slightly watery eyes. He blinked twice as if to check was he was seeing and nodded in answer to an unasked question.

Without warning, the petite woman sat herself on his lap and shifted to face him, chest to chest in spite of their height difference. She spoke only two words before taking a drag.

“Breathe in.”

Sam froze, forgetting her instructions as she leaned in, brushing their noses together. Smoke curled around his lips and jaw before he remembered to open his mouth and inhale. The hit was much smoother, nearly nonexistent on his exhale away from her still too close face.

“Better?” she nearly whispered, looking anywhere but back into those eyes.

“Much.”

They shared breath, moving back only enough to sip their drinks between pulls. It was comfortable, special, just for them.

Sam’s eyes went glassy early on as they melted further into each other, into the safety of being wrapped in someone that understood. Rowena leaned in that final centimeter, pressing their lips together and letting him anchor himself to her. 

The witch and the hunter sat in the moonlight and existed.

Hours later, as creatures of the witching hour awoke, so did they. One large figure carrying a smaller form back down the path to their borrowed car.

The drive back was silent, unwilling to break the magic in the space between them. The same trees stood watch over that empty road. Ginger hair blew in the night breeze, tangling into a knot that could be dissected on a less perfect night.


End file.
